Strange and Beautiful
by DarkPriestessOfHyrule
Summary: "He was the hopeless servant of this goddess, more devout than any priest, warrior, or peasant to shout her name before a battle or bless her for successfully weaving a basket...and he would not stop until she felt the same about him." One sided Athenares.


**A/N: Here's a treat to add to that update of IV. I actually heard a song (Strange and Beautiful by Aqualung) and practically ran to the computer to write down the romantic nonsense that came to my head while it played on repeat. It's strange how I have these sudden bouts of romantic yearning drabbles that come out of nowhere but so far no one has complained so have another Ares/Athena piece on me. No Beta still so all mistakes are mine. Enough waiting, into the poor twisted mind of Ares we go...**

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She was beautiful-so mesmerizingly beautiful that it wrenched at his very soul. It felt like his own personal Tartarus being in a room with her. The goddess that haunted him stole all the air from his lungs and from the very space she occupied simply by standing there. How he longed to reach out a hand and touch one of her soft cheeks, colored the purest of whites but were stained with tiny brushes of red that showed when she was angered or complimented. Her almond hair spilled from a hastily pulled back updo, stray curls hanging down like the banners of her kingdom just begging to be brushed back and tucked behind her ear. Her smile...curse it. Curse her many smiles from the mischievous tug of a smug smirk celebrating victory to the white teeth and chiming laugh that showed when a friend caused her genuine joy. Her laugh sounded like a tune more beautiful than all the muses and Apollo singing music in its purest form. He wanted that glorious laugh for himself.

He would be anything she wanted him to be. If it meant he was a roaring fire breathing brute who rushed at her with his sword then he would be that. He would let her strike his flesh with her hands and her spear until she had her fill of victory if it would make his beloved content. He would step down from the role of a wise war god to a reckless fool who was the bud of every immortal joke it he could only be close to her. Feeling her breath against his cheek even if it was heavy from being locked by blades was worth any injury. The temptress! What he would give for a kiss from her- to one day have the courage while in a deadlock to step into her blade if only to get close enough to pull her consuming mouth against his. He'd slump on her spear in agony yet find rapture in the taste of her divine lips, that spiteful tongue that insulted him locked in a passionate battle against his own in some agonizing symphony of twisted finality would be worth any damnation he would get afterwards.

Give him nepenthe to end it all! No other woman, mortal or goddess could make these feelings go away! They might satisfy him for a moment but in the end his heart, body, and soul yearned to be forever entwined with hers. He was the hopeless servant of this goddess, more devout than any priest, warrior, or peasant to shout her name before a battle or bless her for successfully weaving a basket. He would stare into her silver eyes forever and waste away as Narcissus before the pool on Mount Helicon. Truly they were more beautiful than any sunrise or even the Goddess of Beauty herself with their glittering brilliance. Those pools of divine ambrosia beheld him with contempt and mistrust but when they sought him out for those brief moments they were all his. Her attention was all his...her hate was all his...her spear was all his...her anger was all his. For mere seconds she was all his. Almost like lovers sharing something secret, did she not yearn to hate him above Poseidon? Love and hate were divided by a thin line meaning her hate might as well have been unbridled adoration.

This plan was brilliant! Yes, her hate was love and she loved him above all others. Zeus and Hera made no secret of their loathing for each other yet shared a bed when the day ended. This would be his fate. He would ride into battle and curse her name until she realized it was not hatred she felt, that were he to ever cease she would miss his opposition. The words chanted in his head making his ears pound as she passed by him sending the intoxicating scent of dragon's blood, cinnamon, and olives into the air around them both. Time slowed as if Cronos cut a wound into its chest with his scythe, a wound like the one that bled his heart dry. A deep inhale disguised as a sniff of distaste and a daring hand to let fingertips brush out to meet the sleeve of her peplos was all that Ares did to spoil himself filthy and rotten. The words chanted in his head once more screaming now so loud he feared all of Olympus heard them:

 _"...Come my goddess! More beautiful than Aphrodite, more cunning than Hera, superior in her deadly strikes to my heart than Artemis on the hunt. Your vengeance surpassed Nemesis, your warmth made the fires of Hestia into ice, this goddess' mouth made the honey gloss of Aphrodite taste bitter. Come to my embrace and I will never release you. No strength matching any god or titan would pull me from you my Sun. Oh Athena...I am mad. No poet will ever give my hunger for you words. Turn your beautiful face back and glare at me my queen...yes. I hate you as well...if you want my hate you will have it all my Flower and I will not stop until you feel the same about me. I will gladly surrender the undying heart from my very chest for our next battle if you could see that it beats only for you..."_

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 **A/N: This went from a very sweet one sided yearning fic to something out of a truly shattered mind...I blame me getting interrupted halfway through the writing. Never interrupt me when I'm writing or weird stuff will happen. I feel like stinking Ovid right now with his Amores. Was anyone else getting a weird Ovid vibe from me just now?**


End file.
